#tempesttate

There's never enough blood to drown in. 

I drain the life-force from people as they filter in, unannounced and without an invitation. I figure if I cover myself with enough of their pulse-mixed elixir, maybe I can feel what it means to have my own rhythmically beating chest again. I know this won't work, but fairy tales that Addie made me read to her have left their imprint on me; I can still see her chubby fingers, dog-earing any page which illustrated the prince of rescue as she begged me to read a sentence from the novel of whimsical lies.

I have this naive, disgusting hope that one day I'll find the magic equation to grasp life once again. The pathetic irony of longing for life, when as the living, I wanted nothing but eternal sleep.

I allow them to bleed out until there is only a flicker in their eyes. The flicker is what separates the dying from the dead. It is my ticket, my warning to remove the fading light of their soul before they get too comfortable. I'm running out of places to hide them on the opposite side of the fence; away from the possibility of acquiring an additional inhabitant.